Ryou Bakura and Tennis sama
by sylas
Summary: A lonely Bakura, agitated Ryou, and a substitute teacher named Mr. Ball. Absolutely nothing good can come of this...except a short one shot fic. Ne? Off color, OOC, and strange. yaoi really pathetic Bakura bothering Ryou.


**Ryou Bakura and Mr. Ball**   
**Rioki Kataru **- yugi_chan@earthlink.net | rytona.pitas.com  
  
  
Started - 7/9/03  
PG-13   
Yugi-Oh - BakuraxRyou   
Words - 1710 [4 Pages]   
Complete - 7/9/03   
  
Done in one day. Whoa, I was bored.   
  
I was reading my schedule for sophomore year one day this summer while I was on the phone with Bunny. And I realized I had a teacher with the last name of "Ball". Meaning his name wa "Mr. Ball". Jokes and perverseness ensued, and hence the idea behind this story was...born. Or something.   
  
She said she'd pay me five dollars if I said what Ryou does.   
  
Why Ryou? Why not! The poor boy bring it upon himself, you know.   
  
Slight shonen-ai. Just Bakura being sorta naughty. This hasn't been read by anyone but me, so the evils of typos and errors are bound to...be about. And such. Will change formatting later.   
  
~~~   
  
I dislike school. But I don't loath it. It's boring as hell, but it gives me something to do. And it gets me out of the house. There's nothing to do at my house. Except watch cable and get stalked by Bakura.   
  
Cable is very overrated. 500 channels and there's never anything on. Reminds me of Joey. Lights are on, but nobody's home. Not to talk ill about my friend. But my, it's hard not to.   
  
I sat slouched in my chair as everyone in my class hurried around behind me. Before they had been chattering about meaningless things. What they did last weekend. The fact their cat was eaten by their neighbor's iguana. That they had been asked to a dance, only nobody showed. Although I was curious what had happened to the iguana, class would start any minute now, so the discussions ceased and everybody retreated back to their seats to wait.   
  
No one asked about my weekend. Of course, even if they had, I wouldn't have been able to answer them. I spent my time off being cornered by Bakura. Every time I wasn't watching myself and was busy at something, he'd show up, put his arms around me, flip me around, and usually shag me senseless. Like most weekends, I had to sit through his homicidal rants which always ended up with one of us getting screwed. And it certainly wasn't him.   
  
But then again, I couldn't really blame him. After being locked away for thousands of years, his actions didn't need much explanation. To make up for it, he promised to wash the dishes and clean the house. It wasn't that bad of a deal on my part.   
  
The bell rang. I waited for class to start, but no teacher strode through the door. Someone coughed, disturbing the silence. And together, with a slightly nervous air, we all continued to wait.   
  
Not that we were _nervous _nervous. But what would we do if no one showed up? Were we allowed to leave? Someone behind me shifted in their seat. I cupped my hands together and leaned over onto the top of my desk. Waiting was boring. And this waiting was the worst of all. You secretly wanted the teacher to show up just for something to do, but on the other hand, it would be boring once they got here anyway. And who really wants to learn stuff anyway? I figured at least I could sleep. Although I had a bad feeling that once I dozed off, the teacher would come bustling in and class would officially start.   
  
For five minutes I tried to nap. And nobody came. Sitting up, I glanced over at Yuugi. He was staring straight ahead, with a rather confused look. After a moment or two, he blinked and met my gaze. We both shrugged and went back to staring at the wall.   
  
I glanced up at the clock. Seven minutes. Our teacher's late record had to be something along the lines of running thirty-seconds behind.   
  
Our teacher's full of shit. But then again, who am I to say?   
  
Looking over the class, I slowly began to notice the bewilderment increase. Everyone just stared at one another. Some looked ready to leave, others wanted too but were unsure of the consequences, and a few looked comatose. Like they were so confused they passed out sitting up. Although they didn't move, their eyes were alive. They were bright and flickered back and forth, waiting. Worried. Lost without a cause.   
  
Needless to say, they were the classes more "academically concerned" students. One of them, sitting far away in the corner, met my gaze with his dark, beady, frightened eyes from behind his glasses. Like some dieing animal looking for help. Or someone to come along and have mercy. My head quickly darted back around and I sat completely still, not wanted to take my sight off the empty chalkboard. I swear I could still feel his eyes staring into the back of my head. It made me want to shiver.   
  
After several minuets of waiting, the handle finally turned and the door swung open. A rather large, short man walked through and stood behind the desk. A stiff silence fell behind me.   
  
Sitting in the front row, I got a good look at the man. He wore a blue sweater and black pants. His hair was thin and black, and was non-existent at the top of his head. He also had the same honest smile he had on ever since he came through the class door.   
  
After he set his briefcase on the floor next to his chair, the man was started looking around the top of the desk. Lifting up paper, putting some things in order. His face lit up when he finally found what he was looking for. He looked over a loose piece of paper, which I assumed were class directions, then turned around and started writing something on the board with a stick of white chalk.   
  
This man was a substitute. The first of his kind to enter those doors.   
  
He had just finished writing the words "Mr. Ball" for the class to see when the chalk fell out of his hands, hit the floor, and rolled towards the front row of desks.   
  
"Whoops," he said with a laugh, searching the floor for the chalk. When he finally spotted it, the white stick had rolled to a stop a foot away from my desk.   
  
"Sonny," the man said glancing up at me, "pick up the chalk for me, will ya?" Only I didn't hear. I was rather...preoccupied.   
  
"_Ryou_" a familiar voice shouted in my mind. "_Someone called. They're selling fake grass and asking for your dad. What's his pin number? _"   
  
"No way!" I hissed. "I'm not giving that to you!" When I raised my head, I saw the teacher staring intently at me. And it dawned I was in school. And that there was a piece of chalk calling to me, a teacher asking a favor, and a couple of kids giving me strange looks.   
  
"Uh..." I said, uncertain. Had the teacher heard me?   
  
"_Damn you, Ryou! Are you listing? Damn you....Say, what are you wearing?" _   
  
I coughed. "Sure thing," I said quickly. I was feeling rather light headed and confused. And embarrassed. It didn't seem like Mr. Ball had heard me. Or maybe he just choose to ignore me.   
  
"_Because I'm walking around right now boxers. And nothing else! And I swear the lady next door is checking me out! Should I dance for her?" _   
  
My shoulders gave way and I fell right out of my chair and onto the tile. I was only a couple inches from the floor. And the chalk was directly ahead of me. My eyes crossed slightly when I tried to get a close look at it. Quickly, I swept up the chalk and sat back in my chair. The teacher waddled over and took it from my hand.   
  
In the tradition and light of being polite, I spoke to him as I handed it back .   
  
"Here you are, Mr. Balls..."   
  
Whoops.   
  
"I-I mean _Ball_!"   
  
Traditions and politeness need to die.   
  
I shook my head and slouched down in my chair. Looking at the top of the desk, I could feel my face heat up. The man didn't seem to notice. He just nodded.   
  
How can he _not _know I just made a sexual innuendo out of his name? Maybe he was forgiving? Clean of mind? Maybe he knew it was just a mistake?   
  
"It's Mr. _Ball_. It's...up on the board," he said kindly as he walked back to his spot behind the desk. I heard a couple of sniggers come from the back of the room. One sounded suspiciously like Jounouchi's. That bastard.   
  
After that, the day progressed as usual. Except I couldn't concentrate, and there was a new teacher. But besides that— _  
  
"When you get home, I'm going to fill up the tub, light candles, and make sweet kinky love to you." _   
  
— everything as usual.   
  
After fifteen minutes, Bakura hadn't let up. In fact, he just managed to go into greater detail. And then History seemed like background noise and the last thing in the world that mattered. _  
  
"Bakura!"_ I snapped, _"Stop that! What have I said about sweet nothings while I'm in school?" _   
  
There was a silence in my mind before he found something witty to say. _   
  
You just can't wait and get home...can you...I know you want me,"_ and growled. Damn him. I rubbed my eyes with my hands. I didn't want to be the one to say he was right.   
  
"You there," Mr. Ball said. After nobody answered, I looked up.   
  
"Me?" I asked, bewildered.   
  
"Who else?" he responded with a smile. "Tell me, does _Jinan _sound familiar?"   
  
I swallowed. _  
  
"...and then, after I've got your pants off..." _   
  
The mental images were horrible. Well...no, but I certainly couldn't think with thoughts of getting banged by Bakura in my mind. _  
"...I'll run my hands up your legs..." _   
  
I hit my head with my hand several times. Arhh.   
  
"Sonny?" _  
  
"...and then..." _   
  
And then? _  
  
"...and then I'll..." _   
  
"Jinan?"   
  
"I'm sorry, Sir!" I cried, sitting straight back. "It's not ringing any balls.... I MEAN _BELLS_!!!"   
  
Strong laughter immediately ensued. I couldn't believe I said balls. Again. In front of the class. What was I.... Some kind of pervert? _  
  
"...and no matter how hard you scream, I won't let you go...." _   
  
I threw my head onto the desk and gave up. I couldn't wait to get home. 


End file.
